CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LIZZIE
“I wish you had been there. I’ll probably get sued, lose all of my worldly possessions, but I don’t care. It felt so good.” Cait and I were having lunch following my meeting with Harrison.
“People were filming it?” she asked before she lowered her fork and picked up her phone. It was her super power, navigating her phone. Not a minute later, she turned her phone to me and there I was, live and in color, punching Nadine in the face.
“Play it again.”
“Man, you really socked it to her. I bet that did feel good, but unless she’s a complete twit you are definitely getting sued. She has proof.”
“Whatever. Harrison set up my work as a LLC. She can sue but only my personal assets; all of my money is tied up in my paintings. She won’t get much.”
“Smart.”
“That was all Harrison.”
“We’re going out tonight.”
“We are?”
“Yes. I want to get dressed up and go somewhere with alcohol and dancing.”
“Why?”
“Because Ethan is out of town and I want to party.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She then reached for her bag and pulled out a folder. “You haven’t had a showing in a while, so here are your options.”
I smiled at Cait being Cait and then we spent the rest of lunch deciding which gallery would feature my next show.
Cait arrived as I was finishing getting dressed. “There’s wine on the counter if you want a glass,” I called.
“Do you want one?”
“Yeah. I’ll be right out.”
I finished with my hair, spread some gloss on my lips and grabbed my clutch. Cait held out a glass to me. She looked sexy in her fire engine red dress.
I whistled. “Where did you get that?”
“Ethan. It’s my way of including him tonight.” She took a sip of wine. “I needed this. I’ve been crampy all day…totally premenstrual.”
My glass stopped halfway to my mouth. I hadn’t had my period in a while. I was usually very regular.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
“What’s the date?”
“October ninth, why?”
It had been well over a month since I left Scotland. I lowered my glass as my hand unconsciously moved to my belly as the most profound feeling filled me. “I’m late.”
Cait looked from my face to my stomach. “How late?”
“Enough.”
Her glass came down on the counter with a bang. “Before we get crazy, let’s make sure. I’ll run down the street for a kit.”
Before I could answer, she was gone, the door slamming closed behind her.
Cait and I stood in my bathroom staring down at the three pink positive signs. She bought three different brands, just to be sure. Seeing the confirmation that I was pregnant, that I was carrying Brochan’s child, I ran to the toilet and hurled.
“Oh Lizzie.” Cait was there, holding my hair back. “This is a good thing, right?”
“Yes. Definitely yes.” I sat back and wiped at my mouth.
She touched my belly, her eyes filled with wonder. “There’s a baby in here, but I thought you were on the pill?”
“I was, but I forgot to take it once or twice while in Scotland.”
“That’ll do it.”
I was pregnant. I dropped on the stool. The revelation was both thrilling and terrifying. I had to tell Brochan, but dropping a child on him knowing how his own childhood had been, I’d be tethering him to me just like my mother had done to my father. I hadn’t intentionally done it, but I was still binding a man to me who didn’t want to be there. Unlike my mother, this baby would never know a day that he wasn’t loved, deeply and completely. I touched my stomach again. I was going to be a mommy.
Her voice grew soft. “Do you still want to go out?”
“Yes.”
We decided on a little jazz bar. It wasn’t packed body to body and the music was soothing. Cait ordered us both club sodas with lime.
My thoughts were wrapped around the knowledge that I was pregnant. Cait’s question interrupted them, “When are you going to tell Brochan about the baby?”
“Not telling him isn’t an option, but I don’t know when or how. A letter. Hey. How are you? You’re going to be a father. Or better yet a phone call, especially since the man doesn’t usually talk. Sharing he’ll be a father to dead air, that sounds like fun.”
“Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“He didn’t want me in his life, Cait. For whatever reason, he didn’t want me there and now I’m binding him to me. I feel kind of like my mother—”
Cait leaned forward so fast I almost spilled my drink. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to your mother.”
“I’m not. Believe me, but I’m still forcing his hand.”
“Last I checked it takes two to make a baby.”
“You’re right. We’re both equally responsible, but the difference is I want to be with him.”
“Well if he’s foolish enough not to want you and his child in his life, you have Ethan and me.”
Despite being worried, that made me smile. We weren’t your typical family, but we were one all the same. “Auntie Cait and Uncle Ethan. That has a nice ring to it.”
She laughed, “Yes, it does.” She reached across the table. “You won’t be alone, Lizzie. You’re never going to be alone again.”
My eyes stung and I needed to use the bathroom. “I have to pee.”
Cait chuckled, “And so it begins.”
I tossed my cocktail napkin at her. “Clown.”
“I’ll come with you.” She linked her arm with mine. “We need to get those books.”
“What books?”
“You know, the what to expect books?”
I looked over at her. “How do you know about those books?”
“What? I’m getting married. We have thought about children.”
“Auntie Lizzie.”
“Let’s get you through your…” She waved her hand at my stomach “First.”
We reached the hall to the bathrooms. “No lines. Unbelievable,” Cait said. “Upside of coming to a smaller club.”
Someone came up behind us. I was reaching for the door when a hand closed over my mouth and I was jerked back against a hard body. I felt the knife at my throat.
Cait turned but before she could call for help the man snarled, “Scream and she dies.”
“What do you want?”
“Your money. Just the money.” He nodded to Cait. “Collect it.”
I held my purse out. Her hands were trembling as she pulled our money from our wallets. She held it out to our assailant when her eyes moved behind us. I could feel the dude looking around, edgy but more than from fear, like he was on drugs. The tip of the knife pressed into my neck and for a second I thought he was really going to kill me. Then I was free and I didn’t waste time trying to figure out how, I just hurried to Cait; she grabbed me and pulled me close as I looked back at our attacker. I almost rubbed my eyes because I couldn’t be seeing what I was seeing. Brochan had my attacker by the throat, holding him three inches off the floor. What the hell was he doing in New York? And how the hell was he here now?
“Brochan?”
Cait’s head snapped to me. “That’s Brochan?”
We both looked back when we heard the crack as he slammed our attacker’s head into the wall. The man went limp.
“He’s definitely scary. I’m not sure about the sexy yet,” Cait whispered.
It was a jolt when those pale blue eyes landed on me, but I was moving past scared and right into angry. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Making a grand gesture.”
I was sure I hadn’t heard him correctly, but no Cait had the same baffled expression I felt on my face.
“A grand gesture?”
Our attacker stirred, Brochan kicked him in the gut. It was then I noticed the red blooming on his t-shirt. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s a scratch.”
“I’ve never had a scratch bleed that much.” Brochan glared at Cait. “What? I’m just saying.”
Worry for him trumped confusion. “We need to tend that.”
I got a look. Sure, he was a killer and probably got cut all the time, but he was also my baby’s father and damn it he wasn’t going to stand there bleeding. “You have a car?”
“Aye.”
“My place. Now.”
The ride back was silent. Brochan was silent because that was who he was, me I was biting my tongue and Cait was waiting in anticipation for the fireworks to start. Once in my apartment, I headed to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. The door closed behind me. Brochan stood in front of it.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“In your apartment or the States?”
My heart squeezed, both at the memory and that he remembered it too. I shut that shit down. “Both.”
A strange look entered his expression before he offered, “I received a letter from Brianna.”
Even angry, my heart softened remembering the letter she’d left for me.
“She knew I would turn you away.”
“She said that in a letter?”
“Aye.”
“One you received after she died?”
“She’s a witch, remember?”
I did, but the memory only brought an ache. He seemed to realize that when he added, “I had a talk with Fenella, she told me I needed to make a grand gesture.”
I almost laughed not just at the fact that Fenella had offered that advice, but that Brochan actually followed it.”
“So you flew to New York to make a grand gesture?”
“Aye.”
“How long have you been waiting to make this grand gesture?”
“Long enough to know you have absolutely no sense of self preservation.”
“First, ouch, second, did it ever occur to you that just coming to see me was a grand gesture?”
He rolled his eyes heavenward and hissed, “I told her that. She said it had to be grander.”
This momentarily charmed me, the unsure, completely out of his comfort zone, Brochan. It didn’t last though as the memory of our last time together reared its ugly head.
“Why the grand gesture? It was just lust, sweetheart, hot sex.”
He leaned in and dropped his voice. “Now isn’t the time for that conversation.”
There were too many feelings stirred by those words, but he was right. Now wasn’t the time. And grand gesture aside, he’d hurt me. I wasn’t above giving a little of that back. “There isn’t a conversation. That ship sailed.”
It was probably not wise to taunt a killer so I moved past him. “I’ll tend your wound in the kitchen.” I hurried away.
Cait sat at the counter. She was polishing off the bottle of wine we had opened earlier. “That’s a pretty big scratch,” she said, gesturing with her glass at the cut along Brochan’s side.
It wasn’t a scratch. It was deep enough to need stitches. Stubborn bastard wouldn’t go the emergency room. At least he’d let me clean it. I couldn’t even appreciate seeing his beautiful body again because of the blood staining his skin. He didn’t move. The entire time I was disinfecting and washing the blood from his body he stood completely still.
“Are you okay, Lizzie?” Cait asked and then added, “I’ve lived in Manhattan my whole life. That was my first mugging.”
The shock of seeing Brochan had the mugging kind of slipping my mind, which was bizarre because I had been held at knifepoint. “Strangely, I’m fine.”
“Well, you’ve other things on your mind than a pesky two-bit criminal.” She took a sip of her wine. “I missed part of the show when you two were in the bathroom. So what the hell is this about a grand gesture?”
Brochan growled, “That’s the last time I go to Fenella for advice.”
I couldn’t help the grin, mostly for Fenella that he’d come to her. She must have been over the moon.
I glanced up at Brochan. His pale eyes were on me. There was a lot going on behind them.
“I think Brochan and I need to talk.”
“My cue to leave.”
“No. Ethan isn’t home and you’re already here. Sleep here tonight. We’ll get a hotel room.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not going to argue.” Cait put her glass in the sink. I got her some water and walked her to bed. She took my hand before I left. “He’s here, Lizzie and from the sparks flying around, I think he wants to be with you too.”
I kissed her on the head. “Sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.
BROCHAN
Lizzie had been quiet since we left Cait. She kept looking down at her hands. They were clean and yet I knew she was seeing my blood because she’d been rubbing them on her lap as if to wipe it away. “I need a shower. Shit, I don’t have a change of clothes.”
“I’ll buy you some.”
Irritation moved into her expression, annoyed I was taking over after how we left things. Her focus shifted to the floor.
“Lizzie.” I touched her chin and lifted those wounded blue eyes to me. “You’ve had a difficult night. Let me take care of you.”
Her expression softened before she whispered, “Thank you.”
I didn’t like the lost look in her eyes, so I tried to lighten the mood when I asked, “Where does a Scotsman stay when in this big, bad city?” I’d checked out of the last hotel this morning. Nature of my job, I didn’t stay too long in the same place.
Her lips curved into a slight grin. “The Plaza.”
Lizzie was showering when I returned. I knocked. “I have your clothes.”
“You can bring them in.”
The stall was frosted, but her silhouette against the glass had my cock going hard. I wanted to join her. Wanted to wash her back, then her front, then fuck her boneless. Later.
I put the bag on the counter and walked out. She called, “Thank you.”
Detouring to the mini bar, I poured three mini bottles of whisky in a glass then walked to the balcony. Fucker had a knife to her throat. I went cold thinking about what could have happened if I hadn’t been there. Fate teased my neck; I was beginning to wonder if fate went by another name like say, Brianna. And despite how we reconnected—Fenella and her damn grand gestures—Lizzie was here with me. Only a fool would blow the opportunity to atone. I took a sip of the whisky. New York, I liked the crowds, the noise, and the lights. The city that didn’t sleep.
Lizzie stepped out onto the balcony. The cashmere sweater and yoga pants were too big. Even the socks were big, but she looked comfortable, warm and fucking adorable. My heart twisted. My hands itched to touch her. Instead, I took a sip of whisky and focused on the burn down my throat. “Are you hungry?”
Her focus was on the view. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I could eat.”
“The room service is quite good here.”
She leaned her hip against the railing and tilted her head. A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Not your first visit.”
“No.”
Her smiled faded. “Why are you really here, Brochan?”
I looked down at my drink. “Thank you for the painting.”
Her expression softened.
“I’ve lost hours looking at it.”
“I love that you love the painting. I even love that you’re here, but you were cruel the last time I saw you. I know you well enough to know something happened, but you didn’t share it with me. You cut me from your life. You gave me a glimpse of something I’ve always wanted, and then you yanked it back. I can’t do this with you. I can’t turn it off, I can just move on. I’m trying to move on, but you’re not making that easy.”
She waited for me to say something and when I didn’t she walked back into the room. Maybe I was a fucking fool. I had caught a glimpse of it too, but then I saw the two bloodstains and how brutally it could be taken away. I finished my drink and walked inside. Lizzie was calling for a cab. For the first time in my adult life I felt panic and fear that she would walk out that door and I’d never see her again.
“Don’t go.” She looked over with tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’ll call you back.” She wouldn’t look at me as she hung up the phone.
“What do you need from me?” A risk, but to keep her I would give her anything.
Sad eyes lifted to mine. “Tell me what happened that last night?”
LIZZIE
A shadow drifted across his face. He was so still.
“My father was a broken man after my mother died. I became the focus of his pain and despair. After Brianna confronted him, after his estate burned down, that was when I roamed. No place in mind, just away. I had so much anger, didn’t know what to do with it. I knew I was heading down a path that would have led to my death or jail. Mac Donovan, he came into my life when I really needed him. He was the one to show me there was another way to handle the anger, an outlet. My mentor, my friend…the father figure I never had.”
I remembered him mentioning Mac. I wanted to flee the room because I so didn’t want to hear what came next.
“He retired, got married. Ava, his wife, she wanted kids. He had found it, that elusive happiness. That day we returned from Edinburgh…” He lowered his head and I felt his inhale from across the room. Pain laced through his next words. “They were murdered, both of them, execution style.” Only his head turned, his pale eyes bright. “Her only crime was loving him.”
We didn’t meet; we crashed into each other. Mouths fused and bodies entwined. His fingers dug into my thighs, lifting me. My legs wrapped around his waist like a vice. He fisted my hair, tilting my head to kiss me deeper. I yanked on his tee. He jerked back only long enough for me to get it over his head before his mouth was back, tasting, exploring, invading. His hand found the bare skin of my stomach, his touch setting me on fire. He moved it up slowly, his fingers dancing along the underside of my breast. Hot eyes met mine when he pulled my sweater up, his mouth replacing his hand, closing over my breast, sucking it deep. I held his head, moved into his touch, wanted him to take me deeper. I hit the mattress, my sweater hit the floor. My pants and panties followed. He stripped, but instead of him taking me hard and fast, he pulled me up so I was kneeling in front of him, our naked bodies touching from chest to thigh. He cradled my face, his thumb lightly stroking my cheek. A tear slipped down his face. I kissed it away.
“His killer made him watch. The few seconds where he lived in a world without her, knowing the only reason she was gone was because of him.” His voice broke, “That could have been you.”
I choked down a sob; he closed the distance and kissed me, raw, real and fueled by love. He lowered me back on the bed, his body moving into the cradle of mine. When he joined us, like his kiss, it wasn’t hard or fast. It was slow, deliberate and so achingly sweet. My hands moved over him, his mouth never left mine as our bodies moved together. His hands curled around my thighs and he pulled me closer. When we peaked it was together. Neither of us moved, savoring the love, the shared pain, the moment that changed us both. His head lifted stealing my breath because there was no mask. I saw him, all of him, every inch of his tragically beautiful soul. Quietly, purposefully and a little shyly he brushed my hair from my face and spoke the words that burned on my heart, seared my soul and sealed my fate, tying me to this beautiful and complicated man. “I love you.”
I touched his lips; wishing to hold those words, to physically feel them as all the emptiness inside me was filled with love for him. “I love you.”
He pressed into me, as he grew hard, “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
His hips moved.
“Again.”
“I love you.”
His mouth slammed down on mine, stealing the words before I could say them. He wasn’t gentle as he moved almost violently, claiming me with each thrust of his hips. My arms wrapped around his neck; I pulled him closer, kissed him deeper and let myself fall because we were falling together.
I woke, stirred from sleep. Brochan was sleeping. Turning to him, I thought of Mac and Ava. Their story had hit me really hard and not just because Mac had clearly been a father to Brochan and he lost him so brutally, but because it could have so easily been Brochan and me. It didn’t change anything. I’d rather a day with him than a lifetime without him, but it drove home how dangerous the world was he lived in. It was also a reminder of how short life was and how it could change in a blink. Mac and Ava had wanted children some day, but some day would never come for them.
Rubbing the line between his brows, I whispered, “Brochan.”
“I wondered how long you were going to stare.”
He was awake. I should have known. The man probably didn’t sleep. His eyes opened and love looked back.
“I have to tell you something.”
He glanced at the clock. “At three in the morning.”
Now that I was actually doing it, those damn nerves came back in force. I climbed from bed, putting distance between us in case this didn’t go the way I was hoping it would. He was out of bed and walking around it toward me. I put my hand up to stop him. “Stay there.”
“What’s going on?” His expression was slightly terrifying. “Lizzie, just say it.”
So I did, dropped the bomb without any pomp and circumstance. “I’m pregnant.”
You could have heard a pin drop. He looked like a statue; he didn’t even blink. He just stared at me with an expression I could not for the life of me discern. The longer the silence dragged on, the more worried I grew.
“Say something.”
Nothing.
Was he mad? Did he think I deceived him? “I was on the pill, but I forgot to take it a few times. I was so caught up in the, well everything. We weren’t…I didn’t…” I hung my head because he didn’t want this, but I did. With quiet conviction I whispered, “I’m keeping him.”
It felt like I hit a wall even though I hadn’t moved. His arm went around my waist and he pulled me close as he gently fisted my hair, pulling my head back for his kiss. I didn’t react, too overwhelmed, then I tasted his tears. My hitman was crying. I curled my arms around him, pulled him closer and kissed him back.
BROCHAN
Lizzie was still sleeping. I hadn’t slept at all. I watched her. She was pregnant; she was carrying my child. I hadn’t thought I wanted kids, but kids with her; it was crazy to want something so badly. My cell rang. I almost ignored it, but then I saw Rodney Danton’s name.
His greeting, “Norah is in town. It’s likely nothing, but I thought you should know.”
“Any idea why she’s in town?”
“No. Knowing her she’s just looking to spend money. I’ll keep eyes on her. Have you spoken to Lizzie?”
I’d done a hell of a lot more than speak to her. “Yes.”
“How is she?”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
“She isn’t going to want to see me.”
“You’re her father. You were the one to turn your back, not the other way around.”
“There’s a lot of water under the bridge.”
“Then buy a fucking boat.”
He chuckled, “I like you.” He sobered quickly and asked, “Dinner tonight?”
“When and where.”
Fucking hell, I was getting as bad as Brianna with the meddling, but Lizzie had given me my family. I could help with maybe giving her back hers.
Cait was green. I had never seen that, but she was so hung over she was actually green. She did drink the whole bottle of wine.
“I feel like shit. How bad do I look?”
I’d seen corpses with better coloring.
“You look beautiful.”
I jerked my eyes to Lizzie at such a blatant lie, so she wasn’t above lying to her friends to spare their feelings. I’d have to remember that. Her gaze met mine. There wasn’t contrition; there was a warning for me not to contradict her.
“Do you want me to whip you up something greasy. It does help.”
“No. I want to die. Just let me die.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“I’m glad Ethan is not here. I’d be getting the lecture on over doing it.” She grabbed Lizzie’s hand. “There was a reason for overdoing it. Between that stupid ass mugger and then the preg—” Her mouth slammed shut as her eyes darted from Lizzie to me.
“He knows.”
Her eyes went wide. “He does?”
“Yes.”
“Thank goodness. I thought I let the cat out of the bag.” She had a funny look on her face when she said to Lizzie, “You know what? I think I will take something greasy.”
“Okay. I’ll make you an egg sandwich.”
“That sounds delicious.”
I stood, she pointed. “You stay. We can chat.”
It was how she said it. I was a man who had seen and done pretty much everything. I earned my living from breaking the human spirit and yet the prospect of a chat with Cait made me want to hurry to the door.
She waited until she heard Lizzie in the kitchen. “What are your intentions toward my friend?”
It wasn’t any of her damn business and had it been anyone else I’d have walked out, but this was Lizzie’s family and so I sat back in my chair and crossed my legs. “To marry her.”
Her expression almost drew a smile. She looked like a guppy. “Seriously.”
“I love her and she’s carrying my child.”
I didn’t realize using the L-word would start the waterworks, but Cait, as if on cue, started to cry. Big, fat tears were rolling down her cheeks. I had skinned men alive, removed their fingers. Once I even cut a man’s heart from his chest, but seeing Cait cry I got a little queasy. What the hell did I do with that? I looked around for tissues; she improvised and used the sheet. I threw a glance at the door. What was taking Lizzie so long?
“You love her?”
“Yes.”
She sat up in bed, fisting the now snot covered sheet. “How will you support her?”
I had a feeling telling Cait what I did for a living might send her screaming from the room or she might reach for her stiletto heel and bury it in my chest. I was getting out of the business though, so I told her a half-truth.
“I have family money.”
She didn’t like that. Her eyes narrowed. “A man of leisure. They tend to have wandering eyes and hands.”
The only wandering my eyes and hands would be doing was on Lizzie’s body. Speaking of which, maybe I should go do a little of that now. My dick twitched at the idea.
“Well?” She looked indignant. “Are you a wanderer?”
“No.”
Her expression changed to one of genuine concern. “She’s been through a lot. Please don’t be one more thing she has to survive.”
It was because of her concern and love for Lizzie that I leaned forward and looked her directly in the eyes. “She owns me heart and soul.”
The tears started again. “Good answer.”
I think she was about to use the sheet to blow her nose, but Lizzie entered and glanced at both of us then handed her a napkin. I stood. “We’re doing dinner with your father tonight at seven.”
She looked adorably confused. “Wait, What?”
“I’ll pick you up at six.” I pressed a kiss on her head and walked out. I’d had enough emotions for one day. I needed to go hurt something.
It didn’t take much to find the asshole from last night. Prick held two women at knifepoint but the fucker goes to the emergency room because he got a knock on the head. And people called me a monster. The nurse had been helpful when I inquired about my dear grandmother; odds an old woman had been brought into the ER were damn good. Her interest wasn’t my grandmother, it was my cock, but her distraction got me a glance at the admissions sheet from last night. Only one treated for a concussion.
He lived in a shit apartment that probably should have been condemned. Seeing the knife at Lizzie’s neck, the fucker tried to cut corners to improve his lifestyle by daring to touch what was mine. He’d paid for that.
I slipped on my gloves and moved silently down the alley and up the fire escape. He was on his bed sleeping or maybe the concussion took care of him for me. He stirred then jerked up. Or not. Recognition came swiftly. He tried to move; a punch to the jaw knocked him back on the bed. I straddled him, then shoved his own sock in his mouth. His eyes went wide with fear. I pulled out my knife and he whimpered. “This is for touching what’s mine.” I sank the blade into his gut, right to the hilt. He screamed around the gag. I pushed deeper then I twisted it.